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Authors: Anthony Horowitz
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sighed. “That was when I caught sight of meself in the mirror.” He paused. “I mean, my self, don’t I. I’ve got to learn how to talk proper, haven’t I! Anyway, that was when I started screaming the place down. It was like a horrible dream—only I knew I was awake.”
“That’s more or less what happened to me,” Tad muttered.
“I bet. You must have been sick waking up with Eric and Doll! I wish I could have seen your face!”
“You’ve got my face!” Tad retorted angrily.
“Let’s not make it any more confused, shall we?” Bob Snarby said. “Where was I? Oh—right. I’m screaming my head off when the door flies open and this old biddy comes rushing in. I didn’t know who the hell she was, but then she starts calling me ‘Master Tad’ and tries to get me to calm down . . .”
“It was Mrs. O’Blimey,” Tad said.
“That’s right. The housekeeper. Well, I got back into bed and the old lady fussed over me, but I kept my mouth shut. You see, I knew something strange was going on and I didn’t want to screw things up, like. You know? I could smell the money and I was thinking to myself—Bob, old buddy, I don’t know what’s going on ’ere. It’s a right mystery and no mistake. But you could do yourself quite nicely out of all this. Just take your time. Try and work it all out . . .”
Bob Snarby pulled a bar of chocolate out of his pocket and broke a piece off. “I never used to like this stuff,” he said, half to himself. He offered the bar to Tad. “You want some?”
Tad shook his head.
“Well, I did manage to work it out in the end,” Bob continued, munching the chocolate. “Somehow—Gawd knows how—I’d switched bodies with a fat, rich boy called Tad Spencer. It was like something out of a comic. Or maybe a film. I once saw a film on TV where something like that happened. I don’t know. Anyway, as I lay there in that great big bed, surrounded by all that lovely stuff, I realized it had happened to me and after a bit I stopped worrying about how or why and just decided to . . . go with it.”
“But how could you persuade them?” Tad thought back to his own experiences with the Snarbys and with Finn. “My mother and father would never have believed you were me. You’re much too common. You don’t know anything. You never been to private school.”
“You mean—‘You never went to private school,’” Bob corrected him. “It’s true what you’re saying, although if you don’t mind me saying so, Tad, you’re not exactly in a position to be snobbish.” He smiled. “But all right, I admit it. There were a lot of things I didn’t know that I ought to if I really was going to be you. I knew that.”
“So what did you do?”
“In the end it was easy. I hadn’t said much yet, so they didn’t know anything was wrong. The old woman—Mrs. O’Blimey—thought I’d just been having a bad dream. And that afternoon, Spurling asked me if I’d like to go out riding. I said yes—I thought he was talking motorbikes or something. I didn’t realize he meant on a horse! No, thank you very much, I thought. But then, as I said, I had this idea. I got on the horse and the two of us trotted along for a bit. And then I fell off.” Bob rubbed his backside. “I didn’t have to fake that bit, I can tell you. Your mum saw me fall. She had the horse shot immediately—but this is the good part.” He winked at Tad. “I told her I’d banged my head when I fell and I wasn’t seeing things straight. You know . . . like I had amnesia or something.”
“Amnesia . . .” Tad almost admired Bob despite himself. The idea couldn’t have been simpler.
“Right.” Bob broke off another piece of chocolate. “Well, of course your mum was worried sick. She called in a whole army of doctors and I told them I wasn’t sure who I was and that I’d forgotten all my Ancient Greek and Latin and all that stuff and they said that I definitely had a concussion. I had to stay in bed
“That’s more or less what happened to me,” Tad muttered.
“I bet. You must have been sick waking up with Eric and Doll! I wish I could have seen your face!”
“You’ve got my face!” Tad retorted angrily.
“Let’s not make it any more confused, shall we?” Bob Snarby said. “Where was I? Oh—right. I’m screaming my head off when the door flies open and this old biddy comes rushing in. I didn’t know who the hell she was, but then she starts calling me ‘Master Tad’ and tries to get me to calm down . . .”
“It was Mrs. O’Blimey,” Tad said.
“That’s right. The housekeeper. Well, I got back into bed and the old lady fussed over me, but I kept my mouth shut. You see, I knew something strange was going on and I didn’t want to screw things up, like. You know? I could smell the money and I was thinking to myself—Bob, old buddy, I don’t know what’s going on ’ere. It’s a right mystery and no mistake. But you could do yourself quite nicely out of all this. Just take your time. Try and work it all out . . .”
Bob Snarby pulled a bar of chocolate out of his pocket and broke a piece off. “I never used to like this stuff,” he said, half to himself. He offered the bar to Tad. “You want some?”
Tad shook his head.
“Well, I did manage to work it out in the end,” Bob continued, munching the chocolate. “Somehow—Gawd knows how—I’d switched bodies with a fat, rich boy called Tad Spencer. It was like something out of a comic. Or maybe a film. I once saw a film on TV where something like that happened. I don’t know. Anyway, as I lay there in that great big bed, surrounded by all that lovely stuff, I realized it had happened to me and after a bit I stopped worrying about how or why and just decided to . . . go with it.”
“But how could you persuade them?” Tad thought back to his own experiences with the Snarbys and with Finn. “My mother and father would never have believed you were me. You’re much too common. You don’t know anything. You never been to private school.”
“You mean—‘You never went to private school,’” Bob corrected him. “It’s true what you’re saying, although if you don’t mind me saying so, Tad, you’re not exactly in a position to be snobbish.” He smiled. “But all right, I admit it. There were a lot of things I didn’t know that I ought to if I really was going to be you. I knew that.”
“So what did you do?”
“In the end it was easy. I hadn’t said much yet, so they didn’t know anything was wrong. The old woman—Mrs. O’Blimey—thought I’d just been having a bad dream. And that afternoon, Spurling asked me if I’d like to go out riding. I said yes—I thought he was talking motorbikes or something. I didn’t realize he meant on a horse! No, thank you very much, I thought. But then, as I said, I had this idea. I got on the horse and the two of us trotted along for a bit. And then I fell off.” Bob rubbed his backside. “I didn’t have to fake that bit, I can tell you. Your mum saw me fall. She had the horse shot immediately—but this is the good part.” He winked at Tad. “I told her I’d banged my head when I fell and I wasn’t seeing things straight. You know . . . like I had amnesia or something.”
“Amnesia . . .” Tad almost admired Bob despite himself. The idea couldn’t have been simpler.
“Right.” Bob broke off another piece of chocolate. “Well, of course your mum was worried sick. She called in a whole army of doctors and I told them I wasn’t sure who I was and that I’d forgotten all my Ancient Greek and Latin and all that stuff and they said that I definitely had a concussion. I had to stay in bed
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